


Car Trouble

by misanthropiclycanthrope



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 07:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3373499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misanthropiclycanthrope/pseuds/misanthropiclycanthrope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spot of car trouble leads to a couple of surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Car Trouble

The rain had crept beneath his collar several minutes ago, and now it is trailing its icy fingers down his neck. The propped open bonnet provides absolutely no protection from the weather, and Lewis shoves his hands into his pockets as he glares down at the lifeless engine. He has already poked and fiddled with everything in there he recognises, and a few of the things he doesn’t just for good measure, but it’s all been to no avail.

“Have you determined what the problem is yet, sir?”

He had told James to wait in the car – no sense in them both getting wet – and continue trying to get a signal on his phone. By now, he had probably come to the same conclusion Lewis had – the chances of Lewis identifying the problem, let alone fixing it, were slim to none – and he had grown tired of sitting there.

“No.” It comes out more irritable than he’d intended. It’s the bloody rain and his inability to perform a mechanical miracle on this damn car. This is the sort of thing he _should_ be good at, surely?

James hands him a handkerchief to wipe his oily fingers on. “Shall I take a look?” He sounds mildly amused.

Lewis sighs, accepting defeat. “Be my guest.”

Leaving James to it, Lewis slides back inside the car, but being out of the rain isn’t quite the relief it should be when he can do nothing about the way his damp trousers stick to his thighs. Scowling unhappily, he takes a hopeful look at the screen of his phone, but none of the signal bars have miraculously reappeared.

He can’t see James behind the screen of the raised bonnet, but hears his shout over the sound of the pattering rain.

“Try it now, sir!”

Unable to muster much optimism, Lewis nevertheless turns the key in the ignition, presses down lightly on the gas pedal, and is startled when the engine growls into life. Moments later, James has dropped the bonnet back into place and is slipping back into the passenger seat. If there is the hint of a smug smile on his lips Lewis can’t begrudge him his moment of glory. It is, on this occasion as on most others, entirely justified.

“Not just a pretty face, eh?”

James gives a soft huff, ducks his head as Lewis carefully pulls away. Whatever the problem had been, there’s no sign of anything amiss now.

“Alright, cleverclogs, what did you do?”

“Ah, now that would be telling.” James shoots him one of his rare, uninhibited smiles. “I can’t reveal all my secrets.”

Lewis snorts at that. “Chance’d be a fine thing. You rarely give anything away.”

The shutters immediately slam down and Lewis could kick himself. Trust him to go and put his foot in it. “I’m sorry, lad. I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” James’s face is turned to the window and Lewis can’t see his expression, but at least it doesn’t sound as if he has taken offence where none was meant. When he speaks again his voice is tinged with quiet regret. “I’m sorry.”

That takes Lewis by surprise. “What for?”

“For being afraid to break the habit of a lifetime.”

There’s something in his voice, a trace of vulnerability where’s he’s usually so self-assured, that makes Lewis want to reach out to him. He resists that urge, keeps both hands on the wheel, but glances over at James intending to say something reassuring.

The words die on his lips when he finds himself fixed by the most open, unguarded expression he has ever seen on his sergeant’s face. James is permitting him this rare glimpse beyond his carefully constructed barriers and what he sees there steals his breath. He has to look away, back to the road, before he steers them into a ditch.

He tries to concentrate on driving, but his mind keeps recalling the look in James’s eyes. Maybe he imagined it, that silent confession, the unspoken but frank revelation of feelings long held in check, but he’s been a copper long enough to trust in his ability to read between the lines, hear what people _aren’t_ saying. This time, however, he’s ill prepared for the realisation and isn’t sure how to respond.

He’s worried that his continued contemplative silence has given James the wrong idea because by the time he’s pulling up outside his place James is fidgeting with a cigarette, rolling it between his fingers, looking like he’s planning to leap out as soon as the car stops. So, as he parks, Lewis stops thinking and lets his heart take over.

“We look like a pair of drowned rats.” He doesn’t sound quite as casual as he’d like. No surprise given that he feels like a nervous bloody teenager. “Want to come in, dry off a bit?”

James doesn’t reply immediately and Lewis fears he may have read this wrong. Never was very good at this sort of thing. He starts to mumble something else, something that will give James leave to make his excuses, when he’s cut short.

“Yes. I’d like that.”

Lewis’s hand hasn’t yet moved from the handbrake and he feels the brief brush of fingertips across his knuckles before James pushes open his door and unfolds himself from the seat. It’s enough to chase away his remaining doubts and have him scrambling for his seatbelt buckle.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I am so sorry for being so absent.


End file.
